It was not until the following afternoon, when the storm had subsided and matters were running fairly smooth, that Ira Small sidled up to Jack, Ralph and Gif, who chanced to be standing near the forward rail.
“I’ve got hold o’ that gasoline, and I know how I kin git some grub and water,” whispered the lanky sailor hoarsely. “How about it? Do you want to make a try for it to-night?”
“Do you think it would be safe, Small?” questioned Ralph.
“You know more about that there motor boat nor I do, but if I was you boys, I’d not stay on this here schooner a minute longer’n I had to. I jest heard somethin’ that you young fellows might like to hear.”
“What is that, Small?” asked Jack.
“If I tell you, will you promise not to give me away? If they found out I told you, they might kill me.”
“We won’t say a word,” said Gif, quickly. “What have you learned?”
“I’ve learned that they ain’t goin’ to let you go nohow,” answered the lanky sailor. “They’re goin’ to take you to some island where they’ll hold you prisoners till your folks pay a whole barrel o’ money to ransom you.”