Jack stood up in the boat. Frank and Hetherington pulled on the oars.
“Pull,” Jack commanded, and the boat started away.
Aiming skillfully at the open gangway, Jack sent the heavy bags, one after the other, skimming along the deck.
One of the Italians grabbed them up and rushed to the gangway. But he was too late. The boat was twenty yards away, and leaping forward beneath the strokes of Frank and Hetherington.
CHAPTER VI.
THE SECRET AGENT.
Upon landing the three made their way at once to Jack’s small home, a rudely constructed native hut.
“Sorry I haven’t a better place to offer you,” said Jack, “but I guess you can put up with it for one day.”
“No apology is needed,” said Hetherington. “This is plenty good enough for me.”
“And for me,” declared Frank.
“Well, just make yourselves at home, then,” said Jack. “I’ll see if I can’t scare up something to eat.”