“It was a little after twelve when Clackett an’ me left the torpedo room.”
“Great guns!” exclaimed Bob, startled. “I must have slept longer than I supposed. It was nine o’clock when Jordan and the others went ashore. Jordan said they’d be back in three hours, at the outside. More than three hours have passed and they’re not back.”
Bob’s eyes, suddenly filled with anxiety, swept the tree-covered bank.
“Tirzal knew the country, mate,” said Dick, “and I guess those fellows are wise enough to steer clear of the rebels while they’re trying to locate Coleman.”
“Something may have gone wrong with them, for all that. If Cassidy and Fingal managed to get word to the revolutionists, then quite likely Jordan, Speake, and Tirzal got into a snare. If they did, and if——”
Bob was interrupted by the distant report of a rifle, echoing and reëchoing through the dense timber. There was just one report, and then silence fell again; but, during the silence, the troubled glances of those on the Grampus met questioningly.
“Our landing party has been discovered,” declared Bob, who was first to collect his wits. “Dick and I will go ashore and see if we can be of any help. I’ll leave you, Gaines, in charge of the Grampus. As soon as we are off the boat, you and Clackett and Carl cast off from the shore, go below and sink until the periscope ball is just awash. You may have to put out an anchor to hold the boat against the current. One of you keep constantly at the periscope, watching the left-hand bank. If you see one of us come there and wave his arms, you’ll know we want you to come up and take us aboard. Be as quick as you can, too, for we may be in a hurry.”
“Depend on me, Bob,” said Gaines.
“Depend on all of us,” added Clackett.
Bob turned to his sailor chum.