“I can show you half-a-dozen, all safe,” said the man. “When you like, I’ll lead the way.”
“A boat shall follow you, and take soundings.”
The first cutter was manned with a well-armed crew, and the lieutenant stepped in—Don and Jem being two of the number.
The tattooed Englishman shouted something to the men busy on the ship, and they unwillingly left the deck, slipped down into their canoe, and this led off, followed by the first cutter.
“Give way, my lads!” said the lieutenant; “and mind this: there must be no straying off in any shape whatever—that is, if we land. These fellows seem friendly, but we are only a few among hundreds, and I suppose you know what your fate would be if they got the upper hand.”
“Make tattooed chiefs of us seemingly, sir,” said Jem.
“Or hot joints,” said the officer laconically. “Ready there with that lead.”
The men rowed steadily on after the first canoe, and the man with the lead kept on making casts, but getting no bottom except at an excessive depth, as they went on, the scene growing more beautiful as each point was passed. The other canoes followed, and a curious thrill ran through Don, as he felt how helpless they would be if the savages proved treacherous, for the boat and her crew could have been overpowered at once; and the lieutenant was evidently uneasy, as he saw that they were taken right round to the back of a small island, gradually losing sight of the ship.
But he had his duty to do, and keeping a strict watch, after passing the word to his men to have their arms ready, he made them row on, with the lead going all the time.