One of Jack’s first thoughts was, Had they surprised the doctor and the four men with him as well?
As this thought occurred to him he searched the group eagerly, but there was no sign of any plunder, and certainly he and Ned were the only two prisoners, so there was some hope of their being rescued as soon as they were missed. They were five, and Doctor Instow would not hesitate a moment about attacking—how many were there?
He counted twice over, and then, with his head still sufficiently confused to make the task difficult, he counted again, to find that there were more than he had thought at first, several being flat on chest or back, while two, like the Irishman’s little pig, would not lie still to be counted.
His further thoughts were put an end to by a low groan from his companion in misfortune, who suddenly made an effort and rolled himself over so that he lay face to face with his young master.
“Oh, I say, sir,” he whispered, with a look of horror in his eyes, “ain’t this awful!”
Jack nodded.
“My wristies and ankles are nearly cut through.”
“So are mine.”
“Have they got your gun as well as mine?”
Jack nodded, keeping his eyes on the lithe, shiny bodies of the hungry blacks the while, but they were too much intent upon feasting to take any notice of their prisoners.