“Our plan, too, Smith. We were on our way,” said Oliver, “when we saw your toes.”
“And I was going to kill you for a savage, when you spoke,” whispered Drew.
“Then I’m glad I did speak, sir. My old dad used to say it was a bad habit to think aloud, but it don’t seem to be so arter all.”
“We can’t do better than creep on,” said Drew.
“Yes, and now’s our time,” said Oliver, excitedly, for a loud shouting was heard, and on peering through the waving bamboos, they could see a party of about a hundred of the blacks coming down from the sea, while those who were on the other side of the brig started off running to meet them.
“Quick, all together!” cried Oliver, and flat on their faces, and crawling whenever there was no cover, the three began to make their way toward the vessel, reaching patch after patch of bush unseen in the excitement—the blacks’ attention being so much taken off—till the shed, and then the heaps of wood were reached.
“Now for it!” whispered Oliver. “Jump up and run!”
His order was obeyed, and their sudden appearance was as startling to Panton, and the crew of the Planet, as to the blacks who were now a couple of hundred yards on the other side, but who now ran back, yelling furiously.
“Quick, ropes, and haul us up!” shouted Oliver, and a terribly long space of time elapsed, or seemed to, before three ropes were cast over the bulwarks, and seized.
“Haul away!” roared Smith, “or they’ll have us, lads!” and it was a very close shave, for, as they were run up, the savages reached the brig’s side, and seizing the ropes, began to drag, expecting to pull the fugitives down.