The foreigner stumbled down alongside his companion, copiously swearing.
It seemed to the two boys that the sound of that unknown tongue added a further mysterious terror to the drama which was enacting.
Tom was clutching Dave feverishly by the arm, and Dave was trying hard not to breathe. A great flash of lightning suddenly lit up the whole scene, and they saw the faces of both men distinctly. Then before the thunder came they heard one announce to the other that the boat was all right.
Tom and Dave, listening and watching from their cover, heard the sound of feet on the thwarts, heard the shipping of oars in the rowlocks, and the murmur of voices dying out in the stream as the paddles dipped further and further away in the night.
“They’ve gone!” said Tom, in a hollow whisper.
“My leg’s asleep,” remarked Dave, sitting up and rubbing it.
“So’s both mine,” observed Tom, following suit. “I’ve got cramps all over me.”
“What are we going to do now?” asked Dave. “The storm’s comin’!”
“Can’t be helped,” exclaimed Tom. “When you’re out piratin’ you’ve got to put up with storms. Pirates ain’t supposed to take any notice of ’em. We’ll wait till them two fellars come back, storm or no storm.”