“It would be only a waste of time,” he said. “The bottom so near inshore shifts every year, and you couldn’t even rely on a Government chart.”
“I thought from what we read in the newspaper clipping that the island was small,” Nelse said, as the boat neared the shore. “It looks pretty big from here.”
“Twenty-two miles long and five wide, according to the geographies,” the mate replied, with a laugh, “so you see there’s plenty of room for adventure in case Andy’s voudoos really make this place their headquarters.”
“Do you believe in anything of the kind?”
“That the negroes of Hayti practice the rites of voudooism there can be no doubt; but of course the cook has exaggerated matters.”
By this time the little tender’s bow had been run up on the sandy beach, and, after looking carefully around to make certain no one was lurking in the vicinity, the party landed.
The boat was made fast, and Gil led the way on what now seemed a hopeless task, that of finding a tree so old as to give promise of being the one from which the proper bearings might be taken, if indeed there was anything proper or positive in the document they had discovered.
The foliage was dense; so matted in places as to render it difficult for the travelers to force a passage through, and thus they were obliged to go blindly on, passing near perhaps the very object for which they were searching.
There were many birds to be seen and heard, but no other form of animal life was found during the tramp, except once when a hog, probably a descendant from those brought to the island by the original buccaneers, dashed out of the thicket, almost overturning Nelse, and disappearing again before either of the party had an opportunity to fire a single shot.
At the end of an hour, when they were three miles from the beach, as nearly as could be judged, the mate threw himself on the ground as he said, impatiently: