With the Kanakas at the oars, and the wounded man lying in the stern, the boat was cautiously pulled toward the schooner. Tom’s plans went through without a hitch. The men filled six water kegs and selected all the biscuit and provisions they wished, Zeb Hunt helping them with suggestions as to the best stores to take. During this time Tom found a chance to tell him of the fate of Simon Lake. Hunt sank down on a coil of rope, his head in his hands, as he heard. He was genuinely affected, for he had been fond of his leader in his rough way.
“Poor Bully Banjo,” he said at length, rising to his feet. “It’s the way he’d have wished to die. But it’s sickened me of this business. If ever I get clear of here I’m goin’ ter live honest and clean. I’ve tried the other way, and it don’t pay. For every bad deed a man does he has to pay in just so many days of unhappiness—that’s been my experience.”
“I believe you are right,” said Tom, “badness never pays. It’s only men and boys who live right who are happy.”
Presently a soft hail from the professor apprised them that the boat was ready.
One by one they slipped down the Jacob’s ladder, which was always hanging from the schooner’s side when she was at anchor. Before many minutes had passed the boat, with her anxious passengers, had cleared the point and was being headed around the further point of the island toward the east. They knew that by keeping on in that direction long enough they would strike land. As they had provisions and water enough for several days on board they felt no anxiety on that score, and their hearts were light as they rowed through the darkness.
Before long the professor and Mr. Chillingworth dropped off to sleep. Tom and Zeb Hunt sat alone in the stern talking in low voices, while the two Kanakas rowed steadily as automatons.
All at once Tom gave a shout.
“Look! Look! A steamer’s lights!”
“Whereaway, boy?” came Zeb Hunt’s fog-horn voice.
“Off to the south—look, she’s coming toward us!”