Morning dawned. Hoole had the seaplane carried down to the sea. The tide was rising; the sea was choppy; waves of considerable size were breaking on the beach.
'I hope she 's seaworthy, sir,' said Grinson, eyeing the machine anxiously.
'That we 'll soon discover,' replied Hoole. 'You know what you have to do. When I 've pumped up and sucked in, you 'll give the propeller half a dozen turns; then I 'll switch on, and you 'll skip away, or you 'll get a dose like the medicine-man.'
The whole body of natives was lined up on the beach, watching the white men with simple curiosity. Suddenly one of them gave a shout, and pointed out to sea.
'By the powers, sir, here's the Blue Raider,' cried Grinson.
The vessel had appeared round the western horn of the bay, and was standing in as close as possible to the shore.
'They must have seen us,' said Hoole. 'Rank bad luck! Think I 'd pass for one of the Germans, Grinson? They 're too far off to distinguish features.'
'You might, sir, though I 'm ashamed to say it; but what about me? I 'm a good deal too broad in the beam.'
'But you 're half in the water. I 'll try making signs, just to keep 'em quiet, for if they 're suspicious and get their guns on to me, I 'm a dead man, sure!'
Partly concealed by the overshadowing planes, Hoole waved his arms in imitation of the Morse signals. From the vessel, which had now hove to, a boat was lowered, and pulled towards the beach.