Another shot came from the boat, and then the negroes at the camp made a break for the beach, passing within a rod of where the two boys lay concealed.
“Shall we take them in the rear?” asked Alex. “They have attacked the boat.”
“Don’t shoot!” warned Clay. “Remember that we had no right to molest them in the first place! The boys on the boat are awake, or the lights wouldn’t be on. They can protect themselves, I reckon. I hope Jule is in a safe place!”
The lights were still on, but not a person could be seen. Then more shots came, and Clay saw that the boys were firing through the small port holes in the gunwale, and that the negroes were contenting themselves with firing volley after volley at the cabin windows, which were now void of glass!
While the boys on shore watched with intense anxiety, the motors of the Rambler were heard, and then the boat began to drop down stream.
“I wonder if Jule got on board?” Alex. asked.
“If he met with no opposition on the way he probably did,” was the reply. “At least we must suppose that he is either on the boat or in hiding on the island.”
“Come on, then!” shouted Alex. “We’ll make a success of this excursion yet. We’ll take possession of the camp. I want a confidential talk with the prisoner!”
“You’ll be getting a confidential talk with a bullet pretty soon, if you don’t pay more attention to getting off!” Clay answered. “The boat has dropped down, and the negroes will soon be back here. It is another swim! What?”
Almost before Clay had done speaking Alex. was off in the darkness. Clay could just see his figure moving along the ground, so he followed on after him, wondering what new trick the lad had in mind. The light from the Rambler grew fainter every instant. For some reason unknown to Clay, the boat was being moved down stream a long way.