Besides the two white men there were twelve hands in the boat, fourteen in all, and as she approached rapidly, urged by the long ash sweeps, Floyd saw the rifles with which the men were armed, the barrels showing as they rested, muzzle upward, by the seats.
As the boat came ashore Schumer, from his place in the stern sheets, waved his hand to Floyd. Then the fellows, jumping out, beached the boat, and Schumer, following them, set foot on the sand.
He did not waste words.
He had seen the whole business at a glance, and he had brought canvas buckets. Dense columns of smoke were rising from the back part of the house, but the roof had fortunately not caught alight. The crew had their orders, and in a moment they were filling the buckets and carrying them up to the grove while Schumer, Floyd, and the newcomer helped and superintended.
The mutineers had piled stacks of underwood, sticks, and all the rubbish they could find against the house wall. The stuff was burning with more smoke than flame, and the fire had fortunately taken no considerable hold on the building. They kicked the rubbish aside, flung water on the wall, and in twenty minutes or so the situation was saved.
Isbel had been posted by Schumer as a lookout in case the enemy should return. She had not contented herself by standing by as a watch, but had gone as far as the grove end, from where the reef could be seen up to the pierhead. She had seen nothing. The whole crowd of the enemy, in fact, had scattered back to the fishing camp by the road they had come the night before, and Schumer, standing now on the beach, could see them through his glass congregated about the tents.
Then he turned to Floyd. "Well," said he, "you seem to have had a lively time. What was the bother?"
Floyd explained in a few words, and, Isbel not being by, told of the trouble with Sru.
"He was plotting mischief all the time," said Floyd, "and this is the result."
"Well," said Schumer, "we will deal with the gentleman all in good time. What luck have you had with the pearls?"