“It’s a bit rough,” said Dave, “after all we’ve went through.”
“Pirate’s luck,” sighed Tom. “It wuz always that way. Jist when a pirate wuz gettin’ up to a ship loaded chokker-block with gold-dust an’ dubloons an’ things, a gale of wind u’d come an’ she’d get away. Or supposin’ they’d bin firin’ their cannons an’ fightin’ ’er fer a whole day, she’d sink an’ take all er’ cargo down with ’er jist as they got alongside. It’s pirates’ luck, an’ you got to put up with it.”
“I dunno,” mused Dave; “we mightn’t get ketched if we was careful. Suppose we did go there in the daytime? We could sneak up near in the night, and camp in the scrub, an’ go acrost an’ get the sovereigns, and wait till the next night to come down the river again.”
“You leave it to me,” said Tom, after some thought; “I’ll fix up a scheme. You can’t organise a piratin’ expedition like that in ten minutes. It wants thinkin’ out.”
The boat’s nose ran into the mud on the opposite side, and the boys landed.
Having climbed the bank they found themselves in a field of maize.
Presently Dave stooped down and felt something with an affectionate touch.
“Melons!” he said in a glad, soft voice.
“Good shot!” ejaculated Tom; “we’ll load some into the boat, and take ’em acrost to the pirate’s camp. We’ll gammon they’re chests of gold and plate and ingots of silver.”
They loaded half a dozen large water melons into their pirate barque on this principle, and it added to their joy.