He brought the boat to a stop, and spoke to those in the semi-darkness below.
“Well,” he queried, “have you decided? Is it go ahead, or land and wait?”
No one answered, and in the stillness he heard up-channel the far-off chug-chug of a boat rapidly driven. “Humph!” he exclaimed, bending down again. “Forbes seems to have been well supplied with boats. He’s after us in a steam-launch. That settles the question definitely. We’ve got to dive. If any one wants to take a last look at this marvellous place, now is the time.”
No one spoke.
Howard laughed. “What!” he exclaimed. “Nobody? Joyce, don’t you want to see the last of your old home?”
Joyce shook his head. “Faith,” he answered, “I’ve seen enough of it to do me for the rest of my life.”
“Jackson?”
“New York’s good enough for me.”
“Mr. Willoughby?”
The missionary looked up. “Man! Man!” he cried. “How can you think of such things when we are about to plunge into uttermost peril of our lives? Rather, let us pray.”