[CHAPTER VII]
Touch and Go
It was densely dark beneath the trees where the three walked, so dark, in fact, that Owen, who was leading, struck his forehead heavily against the trunk of a tree, and staggered back, dropping his end of the stick as he did so.
"Let us change the order, sahib," said Mulha, when his master had recovered from the blow, which had been a severe one. "I am used to finding my way at night, and should have seen or felt that tree. Take this end of the stick, and let Jack Sahib cling to your sleeve."
Had it been possible they would have kept clear of the wood, but it happened that at this part a collection of palm-trees struggled right down to the line of the sea, their trunks being moistened by the spray cast by the surf. And these were sufficient to delay them, so that many minutes had elapsed before the party came upon a narrow inlet, cutting zigzag in from the sea, into which the water ran smoothly. It was situated round a rocky bend, and had been invisible from the position they had occupied earlier, overlooking the bay.
"Here we shall find their skiff," exclaimed Owen, in tones of satisfaction, "and very soon we shall be under way. One moment. Isn't that the boat?"
"It is a boulder, sahib," answered the native without hesitation, his eyes seeming to be able to pierce the darkness with ease. "The boat for which we are searching is higher up. I think I see it already. It is pulled up on to the mud."
It turned out to be as he had declared, for as the party turned inland, their onward progress being barred by the inlet, they came upon the craft some hundred feet higher up, stranded on the mud, with paddles laid carelessly in the bottom.
"All in readiness, in fact," exclaimed Owen with a chuckle. "This is a good omen, Jack. All is smooth at first, and the rest is what we care to make it. Those aboard the native craft will hardly be expecting us. If we don't manage to drive them overboard within a minute, well, my name's not Owen!"