Half-led, half-dragged, the little party was forced through the thicket, in the direction from which they had just come, and not a word was spoken until all were within the circle of light cast by the fire around which the negroes had been dancing.
Here the black men held a very lively conversation, all talking at the same time, and pausing now and then only to examine more closely the prisoners.
Gil believed they were discussing the question of what should be done with their prizes, and this seemed yet more probable when the two highly-decorated old men spoke at great length, while the others listened, all nodding their heads in token of approval when the speeches were brought to a close.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jenkins appeared to be more alarmed than were the boys; but his fear came from other sources than the present disagreeable situation.
The soughing of the wind among the trees told, to his experienced ear, that a breeze was springing up from the northeast, and if it increased to no more even than what might be expected at this season of the year, he knew it would become necessary for the yacht to put to sea, or run down the other side of the island for a harbor.
In either case they would be left comparatively alone among those who could be considered in no other light than as enemies, and the prospect was not cheering.
The negroes had not yet decided what should be done, when the report of a musket was heard in the distance, and the prisoners looked at each other meaningly, for they knew it was a signal for them to return at once.
This noise caused the black men to come to a speedy conclusion, and after the old fellows had given what were evidently very minute directions as to future movements, the fire was extinguished.
The prisoners, guarded as before, were marched through the thicket on a course nearly at right angles with the one by which they had come from the beach, and had not proceeded more than a quarter of a mile when shouts were heard from the shore.
“Gil! Mr. Jenkins! Shipmates ahoy!”