“Yes, Mr Mark, sir; but hadn’t I better get a gun?”
“Yes, of course,” cried Mark eagerly, and together they ran into the officers’ quarters, to come forth again, armed to the teeth, to where the ladies were waiting on the sand.
“Where is Mrs O’Halloran?” cried Mark, for she had disappeared.
“She ran into the hut,” said his mother.
As the captain’s wife spoke Mrs O’Halloran reappeared, laden with a bag and a couple of bottles.
“You must help me carry all this,” she said. “We may be obliged to take to the jungle, and this will keep us from starving.”
Mark saw the wisdom of the proceeding, and the load was shared as they went on through the loose sand, the lad’s heart sinking at the thought of Jimpny’s words, and he wondered what would be the result if it should prove to be true that the pirates had landed and attacked the party in Crater Bay.
He kept his thoughts to himself as he pressed on through the loose sand, giving an occasional glance through the trees to see what course the Malays were pursuing, and seeing clearly that their vessels were coming steadily along, evidently with a pleasant wind, while among the trees there was not a breath of air, and as they tramped on through the loose sand he could see that his companions were beginning to suffer.
There was nothing to be done, however, but to keep on and try to get round to Crater Bay. The stowaway began once about it being impossible that day, and Mark felt that it would be a tremendous task; but even if they did not, there was the prospect of their getting on past several of the points and well out of the sight of the Malays, so that if they only got far enough to encounter the boat returning to camp they could warn the occupants and then take to the woods.
Mark explained all this to comfort his companions as they tramped wearily on, and he had been successful in his efforts, giving comfort to his own mind as well, when it was swept away at a stroke, for Jimpny crept close up to him and laid his hand upon his arm.