“Quite right, Mr Anderson, and it sounds like confounded impudence, too. But we’re wasting time, and it is valuable. I’m going to have that schooner found. The sea’s as smooth as an inland lake, so man and lower down the cutters. You take the first cutter, Mr Anderson, Munday the second. Row or sail to north and south as the wind serves, and I’ll stand out a bit to see that you don’t start the game so that it escapes. You young gentlemen had better go with the boats.”
Murray glanced at the old officer, and to the question in his eyes there came a nod by way of answer.
“You always have the luck, Franky,” grumbled Roberts, as soon as they were alone.
“Nonsense! You have as good a chance as I have of finding the schooner.”
“What, with prosy old Munday! Why, he’ll most likely go to sleep.”
“So much the better for you. You can take command of the boat and discover the schooner’s hiding-place.”
“Of course. Board her, capture the Spanish—”
“Or Yankee,” said Murray.
“Captain!” snapped out Roberts. “Oh yes, I know. Bother! I do get so tired of all this.”
Tired or no, the young man seemed well on the alert as he stepped into the second cutter, and soon after each of the boats had run up their little sail, for a light breeze was blowing, and, leaving the sloop behind, all the men full of excitement as every eye was fixed upon the long stretches of mangrove north and south in search of the hidden opening which might mean the way into some creek, or perhaps the half-choked-up entrance into one of the muddy rivers of the vast African shore.