The men were not early astir. When the sun was well up Ruth insisted upon going up the hill again and out into the open so that they could see over a low place in the jungle to the cove where the mysterious boat was anchored.
It was there in the mist. Agnes clung to her sister’s arm and stared at it too. A somewhat slovenly looking craft, wide of beam, unpainted, with stubbed masts, old rigging, and a dirty smother of canvas that had not been even reefed when it was allowed to drop upon the deck.
If the appearance of the craft was a criterion of the character of her crew, the girls hoped not to see the latter at all!
“I am afraid to talk with them. I wish Mr. Howbridge and the boys were here,” said Ruth.
“Wouldn’t we better ask these men to go in search of Guardy and Luke and Neale?”
“Should we? I wonder,” sighed Ruth. “Perhaps they know something about the children.”
“Then we must ask them!” cried Agnes.
“Wait. They are up now. I hear them.”
In fact, within a very few moments the girls heard the strangers down upon the beach. The fog had lain upon the shore and sea in a low curtain for some minutes after the sun came up. Now by the shouting they heard, Ruth and Agnes knew that the crew ashore was chasing and capturing the turtles.
“I guess these men are just turtle catchers,” Ruth said reflectively. “They go from island to island capturing the turtles. It is not likely that a gentleman like Señor Benno would have engaged such men to search for us. I am afraid of them, Agnes.”