Jenkins remained silent and motionless for several moments, as if studying the situation, and then he said, speaking slowly and thoughtfully:
“I’ll try my hand at helpin’ the old man, providin’ you boys agree not to leave this place if the blacks succeed in getting hold of me.”
“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” Gil replied, indignantly. “It’s not likely you’ll be able to accomplish very much alone, but with all hands we may manage to get the old fellow out of their clutches. Surely with the weapons we can make a rush they can’t stand.”
“That might work if it was daylight, but in the night we have no means of knowin’ where to find the scoundrels.”
“But we can’t wait until morning,” Nelse nodded. “They’ll kill him before that time.”
“An’ we shall share the same fate, I’m afraid,” Jenkins replied, in hopeless tone.
The sailors had not joined in the conversation, but stood a short distance inside the tunnel, discussing, as the boys believed, the situation in cautious whispers.
Neither Gil nor Nelse proposed to remain idle while one member of the party was in peril, even though he had brought the trouble on himself by refusing to remain with the others, and the former insisted most peremptorily that the mate decide upon some plan of action in which all could join.
“If you don’t, we shall go alone, for we won’t have it to think of that the poor fellow was killed because we refused to help him.”
“It’ll take half-an-hour to get out of here, now the rope has been pulled down,” Jenkins said, as if on the point of yielding to their demands.