“Too far off to try and swim to ’em, sir?”
“Yes, Ned,” said Jack sadly, “and there are the sharks.”
“Ugh! yes, sir. That won’t do. Never mind, let’s sit still. They’ve seen us, and they’ll have us now.”
“But our boat can’t follow through the surf.”
“Can’t!” cried Ned; “it has to. Never know what you can do till you try.”
The rush through the water had been exciting before; it was tenfold more so now, and the prisoners looked wildly over the lagoon at the cutter, which was being pulled after them evidently with all the rowers’ might, the oars dipping and the water flashing in the last rays of the sun as it dipped swiftly down. But Jack’s heart sank again as he saw that they would be crossing the reef while the rescue party were still half-a-mile away.
Ned felt with him, and said softly—
“Oh, why don’t they go back to the yacht and signal to ’em to get under weigh and go out in chase of us—cut us off on the other side?”
“But where is the yacht, Ned?” cried Jack. “She may be the other way.”
“Ah, that’s what we don’t know, sir. There, we can’t do anything but sit fast. You get your arm over that side, I’ll hold on this.”