“If we might only give one good hooray, Mr Mark, sir,” said a familiar voice, “it would seem to do us good;” and the lad realised that it was Billy Widgeon who had been working all along close to his elbow.
Mark felt with the man, for in his own breast there was an intense desire to cry out or shout, or give some vent to the pent-up excitement. But there was plenty to take up their attention, for the captain, now that the ridge was between them and their enemies, hastened their steps, in spite of the blackness, so that, after a few slips, and a narrow escape of breaking in the bows of the boat through a sudden fall upon an awkwardly-placed rock, she was safely run down to the edge of the crater, and the oars, mast, and sail replaced.
The next proceeding was to get the ladies on board the little cutter, which lay some twenty fathoms from the sands, and in darkness and silence they were handed into the gig, and were half-way to the little vessel, when, without warning, a vivid light flashed out from the mountain, and the oars ceased to dip.
But this was no lightning-like flash, but a continuous glow, which lit up jungle, rock, and the black waters of the bay, while every eye was turned in the direction of the ridge in expectation of seeing the praus plainly standing out in the glare.
Fortunately, the ridge was sufficiently high to conceal the occupants of the boat, and in place of the light proving their betrayal, it aided the embarkation, the boat going on at the end of the next few minutes, and all climbing safely on board. Then the gig was secured by a rope astern, and there was nothing now to be done but wait till daylight, and then trust to being able to escape by running southward along the lagoon before the praus could get round the northern arm of the little bay.
“Look at that,” cried Billy Widgeon suddenly, as the light flashed out as quickly as it had appeared, the glowing scene changing instantaneously to the most intense darkness, while now a peculiar odour began to pervade the air, a suffocating hot puff coming from the land, charged with sulphurous vapours.
Everything was ready for a start, but there was one thing needful, light, for the risk was too great to attempt to get round the southern point in the darkness. It was dangerous with the gig, but they had learned the positions of the rocks by heart, and could come round now with ease. With a boat drawing so much water, however, as the cutter, it was different, and the course necessary so intricate, that, tremendously in their favour as a start would now be, the captain dared not run the risk.
“It’s death to stay,” said Gregory, as they stood in a group waiting for day.
“It’s death to go,” said the captain gloomily. “One touch on a sharp rock, and we shall fill, or be fast.”
“Well, Strong,” said the major, “I don’t like to interfere in your navigating matters, but in this case, as a soldier, I say if we are to die, let’s die like Englishmen trying our best.”