They hauled up the canoe and were not surprised to find that she was full of water. It took them some time to bail her out, and Frank felt anxious when at last they pushed her clear of the sloop. It was difficult to tell how far off the beach was, and for the first few moments they could make no progress against the blast. Then they won a yard or two in a partial lull, and after that for a while barely held their own by determined paddling. Thick rain drove into their faces and the spray from the bows and splashing blades blew over them. Frank was breathless when they reached the beach, and it cost him an effort to scramble over the uneven stones as far as the edge of the bush, where a shadowy figure stood beside a horse. Its head drooped and even in the darkness, which was not very deep, its attitude was suggestive of exhaustion. The man was dimly visible, and they felt sure that he was the messenger they expected.
"You're here on Barclay's business?" he said.
"Yes," said Harry. "Have you a message for him?"
The man fumbled in his pocket and took out an envelope.
"That's from the boss. I guess it will explain the thing, but he said I'd better let you know that we'd had trouble."
"Then you didn't get the dope men?"
"We corralled three of them; the rest broke away. One of the boys got a bullet in him and he's been lying in the rain all night. I don't know how we're going to pack him out."
"Things went wrong?" said Frank.
"They did," the man assented. "One of the boys got his pistol off by accident just after the boat had come ashore, and that gave our plans away. The boat's crew shoved off and several men who'd been landed broke through in the dark. Anyhow, when the trouble was over we'd got one case of dope, two whites of no account, and a Chinaman."
"And the schooner?"