“Surely not, sir. Never be so mad.”
“But I’m afraid they will. My father would never sit there and make no effort to save us.”
Ned was silent for some minutes, and the foam of the breakers on the reef began to soften as the blacks paddled hard straight out to sea.
A few minutes later it was night, with the stars beginning to shine out clearly from the purpling sky, and the paddles making the water flash into phosphorescent foam.
“You’re right, Mr Jack,” said Ned at last; “Sir John wouldn’t mind running any risk to save us, but he might see that it was only throwing away a chance to get the boat capsized, and he may have to row back to the yacht so as to get her out of the lagoon and after us to cut us off before these black ruffians can get home to where they came from.”
“It means slavery after all, Ned,” said Jack bitterly. “Why didn’t we jump overboard and—and try to swim to the boat?”
“What the doctor calls ‘law of self-preservation,’ sir,” said Ned quietly. “We’d seen too much in that lagoon, very pretty to look at, but too many ugly things about in the blue waters. Been just about as mad as for them to try and follow the canoe. What do you say to making ourselves comfortable, sir, and having a nap?”
“What, now? At a time like this?” cried Jack.
“Yes, sir, that’s what I was thinking, so as to be ready for work to-morrow.”
“I could not sleep,” said Jack sadly, as he sat gazing back in the direction of the reef.