"You a prisoner!" Jack echoed. "What's the use of lying about it?"
"I shall be a prisoner by the time you reach the gunboat," Ned said, coolly—as calmly as if he had been announcing that he would be taking his supper at that time.
"If you go in the Manhattan," Jack said, "you won't be a prisoner here."
"But I've got to stay here," Ned said, "and besides, the boat must not be loaded down. She may have to make a hot run for the gunboat."
"I don't know what you're up to," Jack said, doubtfully, "but I guess you do, so I'll do just as you say."
"What about the rockets?" asked Jimmie.
"They are to be used in signaling the gunboat," Ned replied. "She may be a long ways off when you get out there."
When the boys at the camp had finished their supper, eaten in the darkness, and watched the sea for signs of the ships for half an hour, they started toward the boat. Then another shot came over the water, followed by two more, fired in quick succession. Ned joined them instantly, for, following the shots, the rattle of sailing gear and the thud-thud of boxes or boards on a deck echoed over the sea.
"One of the ships is close in," Ned said. "Now we'll see if the owners are unloading missionaries here!"
The vessel close in looked like an old-fashioned top-sail schooner; still there was an engine and a propeller. She was a three-master, and looked, in the uncertain light, as if she had been in service in the East for a long time.