Andy took great pains to stay out of the way all this time, and they saw nothing of him until supper was served; but even then he refused to speak.
That evening Gil and Nelse slung hammocks under the awning, intending to sleep on deck because of the excessive heat which rendered the cabin suffocatingly close, and the mate ensconced himself in a folding-chair which could be stretched out in the semblance of a bed.
It was nine o’clock. Save for the low, musical murmur of the sea on the sandy beach, not a sound could be heard, and the boys were fast sinking into the arms of the dream-god when Mr. Jenkins whispered, excitedly:
“Look there! I reckon there’s considerable in Andy’s yarn about voudoos.”
This was sufficient to cause the boys to leap from their hammocks very suddenly, and, gazing in the direction pointed out by the mate they saw nothing more remarkable than the glow of a fire about half a mile to the eastward of where they had landed during the forenoon.
“There’s not much startling about that,” Gil said, in a tone of disappointment.
“It shows there are human beings ashore near here, although we failed to find any traces of them.”
“But it doesn’t prove that they are other than honest fishermen or planters,” Nelse added.
“I’m not so sure,” Mr. Jenkins replied, in a musing tone. “If there was nothing out of the ordinary run going on over there why should a fire have been built?”
“It won’t take us long to learn,” Gil cried, for his last remark had aroused his curiosity. “What is to prevent our rowing over that way? The tender hasn’t been taken out of the water, and, although we’ve had plenty of exercise to-day, a little more won’t do us any harm.”