“Oh, just a little fun, skipper,” Grief protested with the apologetic air of a schoolboy caught in mischief by an elder.
Captain Ward grunted, but Denby was all alertness.
“I'd like to go along, Mr. Grief,” he said.
Grief nodded consent.
“Bring some axes and bush-knives,” he said. “And, oh, by the way, a couple of bright lanterns. See they've got oil in them.”
V
An hour before sunset the Wonder tore by the little bight. The wind had freshened, and a lively sea was beginning to make. The shoals toward the beach were already white with the churn of water, while those farther out as yet showed no more sign than of discoloured water. As the schooner went into the wind and backed her jib and staysail the whaleboat was swung out. Into it leaped six breech-clouted Santa Cruz boys, each armed with a rifle. Denby, carrying the lanterns, dropped into the stern-sheets. Grief, following, paused on the rail.
“Pray for a dark night, skipper,” he pleaded.
“You'll get it,” Captain Ward answered. “There's no moon anyway, and there won't be any sky. She'll be a bit squally, too.”