“Yes,” replied Frank. “I say, Hamet, keep a good look-out for the prahus, and run her in by the tree where the crocodile was caught. It will be quite black under those boughs.”
“Pst!” whispered Hamet, and he ceased dipping his oar in the water, for suddenly a faint light appeared ahead of them not larger than that emitted by a firefly, but the regular beat of oars told that it was in some boat, and unless prompt measures were taken, it was evident that they would be seen, and the efforts of the night thrown away.
Chapter Twenty.
The Rajah’s Messages.
Murray woke with a start to find that the sun was well above the trees, and a curious sensation of shame troubled him as he recalled the events of the previous night.
As he started up, he saw that Mr Braine was seated at his little table writing, and as the latter noticed his fellow-prisoner’s awaking, he laid down his pen, and held out his hand.
“I was writing a few lines to the doctor,” he said. “I daresay they will take a note for me. I have told him that we are prisoners, to account to my wife for our absence.”
“Tell him—tell them,” said Murray, flushing a little, “to be of good cheer, for we are behaving like prisoners, and watching some means by which we may all escape from this wretched place.”