They raced through the lantana, scratching their hands and faces and tearing their clothes as they went.
Their craft was aground in the black mud among the mangroves, and when they tried to shove her off they found the task beyond their strength.
Tom hurriedly led the way into a thick patch of jungle, and they crawled under a low clump of young stinging trees, where it would be almost impossible for a full-grown man to reach them, and held a whispered consultation.
“It’s him,” said Dave.
“Yes,” agreed Tom, “there ain’t no doubt of it.”
“Do you think he seen us?” asked the second pirate.
“No;” replied Tom, “I don’t think so; he had his ugly mouth open like he waz asleep.”
“What’s to do?” asked Dave.
“Dunno, ’less we leave everything an’ swim ashore. Then we might get ketched with sharks, and if we wasn’t ketched with sharks, we’d most likely be ketched be the traps.”