"Somethin' to eat is what we're wantin' pretty bad," the man on shore cried; and Bob said, as he turned to Joe:
"I reckon we oughter go after 'em; but somehow I don't jes' believe his yarn."
"Why not?"
"'Cause there's no reason why an honest vessel would stop here long enough for her crew to go ashore; an' then, agin, they haven't got a sailor cut about 'em."
Having thus given words to his suspicions, Bob set about lowering the Trade Wind's yawl with as much alacrity as if some one in sore distress stood in need of their services, and five minutes later he and Joe were rowing ashore.
The strangers stepped into the boat the instant her bow grated on the sand with the air of persons who are conferring rather than receiving a favor, and making no attempt to push the craft into deep water.
"It's a sailor's rule for the last aboard to shove off," Bob said with just a shade of anger in his tone, and the man in the bow leaped ashore to perform that duty, after which the yawl was pulled toward the brig.
The three boys were standing at the rail forward watching all which occurred, but saying nothing until the boat was near enough to admit of their seeing the strangers clearly. Then Jim whispered:
"That's what I call a mighty hard-lookin' crowd, an' I don't wonder Bob says they haven't got the sailor cut. I wouldn't like to meet either one of 'em alone in the dark."
Two of the three strangers appeared to be Americans, but of a disagreeable type, while the third was unmistakably a Mexican; and it was this last upon whom Jim looked with the most suspicion.