The dog lay crouched in a whimpering heap not far from Captain Briggs' side. Ned dared not delay longer. With swift, silent strides he made for the stern, dropped overboard and landed deftly in the dinghy.
The oars were in it, and to cast off was the work of an instant only. Then with strong, noiseless strokes, he pulled toward the shore. There was not a sound of pursuit from the schooner and Ned's heart leaped exultingly as he threw his strength into the oars.
Ten minutes later the dinghy's nose scraped the beach. At precisely the same instant the bow of Ned's craft was grasped by a pair of strong hands, and a gruff voice demanded to know his business.
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP.
"Whew! Out of the frying pan into the fire!" was Ned's instant thought.
Facing him in the moonlight was a Jackie in uniform. He was armed with a carbine and looked very business-like. He regarded Ned with no friendly air.
There was good reason for this, from the man's standpoint, anyway. He had been placed on guard duty there, and to be surprised after midnight by a stalwart youth who had sculled himself ashore in a small dinghy was a suspicious circumstance.