CHAPTER XXIX
“SAIL HO!”
Frank, in the heavy slumber that had come to him as soon as his watch was over, seemed to smell something burning. It was like the mingled odor of charred rope and scorched leather and came pungently to his nose.
At first he paid no heed to it, but turned restlessly in his slumber to compose himself more comfortably on the bunch of seaweed that served as his bed. Then the odor became stronger.
“Andy must be too near the fire, and is burning his shoes,” he thought in a sort of hazy way. “He ought to be more careful. I guess—”
Frank was wide-awake in a moment, for he heard some one exclaim aloud as if in pain.
“What’s that?” cried the lad, sitting up. The smell of burnt leather and rope was even more noticeable. Frank peered out of the shelter toward the campfire.
A strange sight met his eyes. There was Andy fast asleep, and there was the mysterious man, lying at full length on the sand, holding his rope-bound feet as near to the blaze as he dared. He was burning off the cords that bound his legs that he might be free, and it was the smell of charred rope and leather that had awakened Frank.
The explanation came to him in an instant. The man had seen Andy fall asleep. He had rolled from his shelter over and over on the sand and had gotten near enough to the blaze to nearly accomplish his purpose. Frank dashed out.
“Andy! Andy!” he called. “Wake up, our prisoner is trying to get away!”
The man, with a snarl of rage, tried to burst the ropes that still held his legs, but they were not yet burned enough to break. He had not risked loosening his hands in that way.