"What do you say to jumping into the boats and rowing out to meet them?" asked Burke. "We'd have to leave the bags uncovered, but we might get to a port, charter some sort of a craft, and get back for the bags before any other vessel came so near the coast."
"I don't see what made this one come so near," said Shirley, "unless it was our fire last night. She might have thought that was a signal."
"I shouldn't wonder," said the captain, who held the glass. "But we needn't trouble ourselves about going out in boats, for she is making straight for land."
"That's so," said Shirley, who could now see this for himself, for the light was rapidly growing stronger. "She must have seen our fire last night. Shall I hoist a signal?"
"No," said the captain. "Wait!"
They waited to see what this vessel was going to do. Perhaps she was only tacking. But what fool of a skipper would run so close to the shore for the sake of tacking! They watched her eagerly, but not one of the white men would have been wholly disappointed if the schooner, which they could now easily make out, had changed her course and gone off on a long tack to the southwest.
But she was not tacking. She came rapidly on before a stiff west wind. There was no need of getting out boats to go to meet her. She was south of the headland, but was steering directly toward it. They could see what sort of craft she was—a long schooner, painted green, with all sails set. Very soon they could see the heads of the men on board. Then she came nearer and nearer to land, until she was less than half a mile from shore. Then she shot into the wind; her sails fluttered; she lay almost motionless, and her head-sails were lowered.
"That's just as if they were coming into port," said Burke.
"Yes," said Shirley, "I expect they intend to drop anchor."
This surmise was correct, for, as he spoke, the anchor went down with a splash.