"So glad! so glad!" she cried joyfully.
"It's full moon to-night, Jack!" said Broncho casually, as if it were of no importance, though he knew full well how anxiously he, nay, all hands were looking forward to its advent as a slight chance of release for Jack from his horrible affliction.
"I know," replied the rolling-stone very quietly; then more brightly, "Now, let's have a look round. Ah! There's the schooner—rather too close, I'm thinking. How far do you make it, Bill?"
"'Bout 'alf a mile."
"About that, I think," agreed Jack; then he turned and looked keenly to windward.
"This dust-up will be over before dawn," he declared. "Let's see. The moon rises about eleven; the sky is getting clearer every minute. But that marooning hound needn't hug himself about that; he'll have to catch us first and fight us afterwards, and if he gives me half a chance to draw a bead on him before daylight, I'll put him out of action for ever, and think no more of it than stamping on a cockroach."
"That's bizness, Jack, that's the tactics! Kill the bloomin' swine an' all's serene. One of us ought to be able to 'it the bull's eye," asserted Bill keenly.
"Why, chucks!" exclaimed Broncho, "it's a cert if he comes mouchin' 'round he's due to get creased a whole lot. That yappin' wolf'll find it a heap fatiguin', chasin' round ropin' after this outfit. I allow he's some fretted now he pastured you-alls on the island so headlong an' thoughtless. That play o' his is goin' to make him sweat blood."