“Then it must be somewhere in the creek.”
At mention of the creek Don started violently, a suspicion of the truth flashing upon him. He began to sniff the air. An odour of smoke floated to them on the fresh morning breeze, faint but pungent. Jack, catching a whiff of it, fell to sniffing too.
“Well, what do you make of it?” Don inquired anxiously.
“Tar!” replied Jack, without hesitation.
“I thought so,” said Don, with a queer catch in his voice. “Jack, it's the cutter!”
With this he set off at a run towards that part of the Rock which overlooked the creek. Advancing as far as the rapidly-increasing slope of the declivity, made it prudent to venture, he came to a stand. The glow of the fire was now brighter, though its source still remained hidden from view; but by edging his way well to the right, he at length succeeded in reaching a point whence the ruddy light that had excited his fears could be seen as a leaping, swaying column of smoke and flame, terminating, far down amid the darkness of the creek, in a single point of lurid red.
“Just as I feared!” he cried, as Jack rejoined him. “The niggers have set fire to the Jolly Tar. I was afraid the rascals had smelt her out when I met the lascar in the creek the other morning. The old boat's done for, anyhow; so let me off my promise, Jack.”
“What for? I can't see that the burning of the cutter has anything to do with it. There are plenty of native boats to get away in.”
“Oh, it isn't the getting away! You don't suppose I'd go off and leave you in the lurch, I hope? It's the powder that troubles me. There wasn't much on board the cutter, it's true; just about enough to fight my way back here with—as I meant to do, please God, had this not happened. I planned the whole thing out while we sat mooning yonder, you see. But now!” and at thought of how this hope—the secret of his acquiescence in the outcome of that fatal toss—had vanished into thin air before his very eyes, Don's lips trembled and his voice choked.
“Never mind, old chap!” said Jack, deeply touched by this new proof of his friend's generosity; “I'll take the will for the deed. But, I say—you pledged me your word, you know; and at daybreak, if no way of anchoring the rope shows up, I shall expect you to go over the cliff like a man. We shan't have long to wait now. Look!”