No, it could not be the canoe he had seen first, it must be another, and the next minute he had proof thereof, in this canoe passing across the disk of radiant light, leaving it for a few moments clear, and then another appeared, and he watched the little black silhouettes steadily moving as they paddled, till the long boat had gone by, when another appeared and passed.
“Give way!” came in a whisper; then the oars dipped silently, and they began to move onward.
“We must make a dash for it, or they will surprise the yacht,” whispered the mate. Then he leaned over backward, and the exciting words came—“Astern there. Guns ready and load.”
A faint whisper or two from the mate’s boat told that the men not rowing had received a similar command, and Jack, as he thrust a couple of cartridges into the breech of his gun, felt that the canoes would be paddling round the yacht, and have reached the other side by the time they were alongside.
“Are we not going to shout and alarm Captain Bradleigh?” whispered Jack to the doctor.
“No; sit still,” said that gentleman sternly. “He and your father are the leaders. We have only to obey. Don’t fire till you receive orders.”
A low deep sigh came from Ned, but it was accompanied by a faint “click—click; click—click.”
“Both barrels at full cock,” thought the lad. “But how horrible to have to fire at any one, even if he is black.”
But all the same, horrible or no, the lad cocked both locks of his own piece, and felt the flap of his cartridge satchel to try whether everything was handy if he had to reload; and just then, as they glided silently along in the full glare of the great artificial star, a feeling of angry resentment ran through him, and he said half aloud—
“Serve them right. Why can’t they leave us alone?”