"Oh, don't worry about the future," answered the former supercargo, lightly. "In a few days we'll have everything in apple-pie order."
There was a good breeze, and the bark cleared the reef with but little difficulty. Then Paul Shepley had all the sails set, and soon the Stormy Petrel was leaving the island far behind.
In the meantime Captain Marshall, Dave, and the old tar were looking everywhere for Phil and Roger. They dove straight into the jungle and called out as loudly as they could. But no answer came back.
"It is queer that we can't locate them," was Dave's comment. "If they wanted us, I should think they would be watching out, wouldn't you?"
"Perhaps they are in trouble," answered the captain, gravely.
He fired his pistol as a signal, and at last came an answering shot from the lower end of the island. At once they hurried in that direction, only to find themselves cut off by a stretch of impassable marsh land.
"Reckon as how we'll have to go around," observed Billy Dill. "If we try to go through thet we'll git stuck, fer sartin!"
Going around was not so easy, and it took them nearly half an hour to cover a mile. Then the captain discharged his pistol once more, and a minute later came an answering shot but a short distance away.
"I see them—at the top of the hill!" cried Dave, and, looking ahead, the others discovered Phil and Roger at the top of the slight rise of ground, waving their handkerchiefs to attract attention. Soon the two parties were together.
"What's the news?" cried Captain Marshall, looking around to see if anybody else was present.