Arrived at length at the quarters that I occupied while ashore, I drew forth from my pocket what proved to be, as I had suspected from the feel of it, a sheet of paper folded into a very small compass, and, opening it, read as follows:—
“I have just learned, through the merest chance, that it has been arranged that the crew shall go aboard to-morrow, instead of next day, which means that we must act to-night. Please meet me, therefore, among the big rocks on the Basin beach under the South Head as soon after supper as you conveniently can; and, if I should not be there when you arrive, kindly wait for me. I have chosen that spot for our rendezvous on account of its secluded character, and because nobody cares to go there after dark.”
This was awkward news indeed; for, as Gurney had remarked in his communication, it meant that we must act—that is to say, must make our escape—that same night, although the hatches were off, and all the boats were ashore. Of course the fact that the hatches were off was the merest trifle, for Gurney and I could soon clap them on and batten them down; but I did not at all like the idea of going to sea without even so much as a single boat on board; while, of all the boats belonging to the ship, I should most have preferred the longboat, because she was a fine, wholesome boat, and in the event of anything untoward happening we should stand a far better chance in her than in any of the others. However, there was no help for it; it would be better for us to escape without boats than not at all. And yet, when I came to think of it, there was no reason why we should go to sea entirely without boats; we should require one in which to make the passage from the shore to the ship, and surely it ought not to be beyond the power of two men—and a girl—to hoist one of the quarter boats to the davits, for, as Gurney had said, a good deal of work can be done with the aid of a tackle or two. And if we could hoist one quarter boat, why not both? Ay, and it might even be possible to get in the longboat as well, if time and opportunity permitted—but perhaps that was almost too much good luck to expect. Still, I had the germ of a plan in my mind, and I determined to talk to Gurney about it.
Supper, the last meal of the day, was served at seven o’clock, and was over and done with before eight, by which time it was quite dark, save for such light as the stars afforded. While this light was quite sufficient to enable one to see one’s way about the island, it was not powerful enough to reveal objects at any great distance. The conditions were, therefore, quite favourable for our purpose, and when I left the building in which supper had been served I sauntered off in an aimless sort of way, as though going for a stroll toward the peak before turning in for the night. But when I had gone about a quarter of a mile, and had satisfied myself that no one was about—for the settlers were, as a rule, early birds, and usually turned in almost immediately after supper—I made a détour which took me, by way of a slight hollow, down to the inner beach, along which I passed towards the rendezvous mentioned by Gurney. This spot was situated beneath the cliffs on the Basin side of the South Head, where an outcrop of big basalt rocks occurred, and was always of so dark and gloomy and weird a character that it was generally shunned even during the hours of daylight, while at night time nobody ever went near the place if they could possibly avoid it. As I drew near it I once or twice fancied that someone was following me, and, thinking that it might possibly be Gurney, I waited to let him overtake me; but as nobody appeared I supposed I must have been mistaken, and went on again, presently arriving among the rocks. The next moment two figures emerged from among the shadows, and Gurney and his sweetheart stood before me.
Chapter Fifteen.
The great adventure.
“Ah! here you are, Gurney, and Miss Hartley, too,” I exclaimed. “That is good; better, indeed, than I dared hope, for I did not expect to see you, Miss Hartley, at least for another two or three hours.”
“No,” answered Grace; “nor did I expect to be here so soon. But a lucky chance enabled me to get my box out of the hut unobserved, and, George happening to come to my window soon afterward to make his final arrangements, we seized the opportunity and came straight away at once. Mrs Pierson, with whom I have been staying, believes me to be in bed with a bad headache. I made my escape through the window.”