The next fifteen minutes were filled with strenuous exertions on the part of the three Rover boys. Twice the wreckage came up on the sand, and they did their best to hold it, but without success. Then they managed to get hold of two of the ropes which lashed the wreckage together, and, watching their opportunity, they waited for an extra high wave and then ran the wreckage up the beach as far as they possibly could.
“Now come on and tie it fast!” yelled Jack.
He had found a loose end of one of the ropes. Tying this to another rope they had found on the wreckage, they ran up the beach and anchored the improvised raft fast to a palm tree.
“Now let’s get the stuff ashore before the raft has a chance to break loose,” directed the young major.
Working with feverish haste, the three boys pitched boxes and crates and canned goods out on the sand above the reach of the ocean. It was well that they did this, for before they had finished their task the wreckage began to go to pieces. The continual pounding of the elements had snapped a number of the ropes, and now one bit of timber after another drifted away.
“Come on! Let us take the wreckage up as high as we can get it!” directed Jack. “That stuff may come in useful as firewood, if for nothing else.” And so what was left of the raft was presently hauled to a place of safety.
It did not take the boys long to look over the stores, and, carrying what they needed, they hurried back to where they had left Andy and the lanky sailor.
They had matches in a water-tight box, and soon a fire was lighted and a meal started, much to every one’s satisfaction. After the meal Ira Small felt better. He was not yet able to get on his feet, stating that his legs felt too shaky; but he insisted upon sitting up and taking part in the discussion of what should be their next move.
“I reckon we’re on a little island of the West Indies,” said the old tar. “There’s dozens an’ dozens of ’em scattered fur hundreds o’ miles around. Most of the islands have settlements, but there’s a lot of ’em that ain’t visited once a year. The folks down here can’t grow nothin’ on ’em, an’ couldn’t git the stuff to market if they did, an’ so the islands are left to themselves, not bein’ near where ships usually travel.”
“Was it on one of these islands that your thirteen rocks and the pirates’ gold was located?” questioned Randy, curiously.