Three men came up and stood waiting for orders, and the major joined the captain.
“You understand,” said the captain, “there must not be a sound. If there is, we are lost.”
“I understand,” said Gregory gruffly.
“Have you got everything out?”
“Everything. She’s light enough now.”
“Come, major, then,” said the captain. “You must be guard, Mark. Go with the major, and help to take care of the ladies. No, stop. Perhaps you can help me pick out the best route for the boat, but mind only one person has to speak, and that is I. Get rid of that dog.”
Mark hesitated for a moment, and then laying hold of Bruff’s ears, the dog followed him eagerly to where the ladies stood together shivering with anxiety in the darkness.
“Keep Bruff with you, mother,” he whispered; and then, after a stern order to the dog to lie down, he hurried back over the black sand, and found the little party threading its way among the rocks and over the ridge to reach the spot where the gig lay drawn out of the water of the lagoon.
They all halted for a few moments as Mark joined them, and just then a vivid glare of light shone out, showing them plainly the hulls of three long low boats lying out in the lagoon, whose waters quivered, and looked for the moment as if of molten steel.
Then all was pitchy darkness, and through it came the sound of voices.