“’Cos they don’t want the rattling of the blocks and the cordage to be heard,” rejoined Nate. “Seein’ no lights up above, I suppose they’ve figured that we are all asleep and dreaming. But we ain’t, not by a jugful,” he chuckled.
Then came the sound of oars as they creaked in the rowlocks of a small boat. Joe’s heart beat wildly with excitement, and even Nat felt a thrill, as there no longer remained any doubt that hostile men were about to land on the island. When Hank had told Joe the day before of old Israel’s plans of vengeance, he had not taken them very seriously. Now, however, they faced the fact, and faced it to all intents and purposes unarmed.
“Lie down,” ordered Nat, as the sound of the oarsmen became more distinct; “we don’t want them to see us yet.”
They all threw themselves flat amidst the spiky dune-grass and waited for what was to come. Presently they saw a small boat grounded on the beach, and five men leaped out. They grouped themselves about one figure, which Nat instinctively felt must be that of old Israel himself.
At any rate, he appeared to be giving orders to the others. The group split up. Two of the men started in the direction of the shanty, while three, including the one suspected to be old Israel, set out to the southward.
“Now what in the name of time does that mean?” demanded Nate in an astonished voice.
“It means that our job is just twice as hard,” rejoined Nat. “I can’t make out myself exactly the object of it, but I reckon we shan’t be long in finding out.”
“We’d better follow them,” suggested Nate.
“Yes, we had better. Nate, you take the two men that went toward the hut. Joe and I will trail that group of three.”
“All right, Nat; and say, if you’re in trouble, just fire a shot from that shootin’ iron of yours and I’ll come on the jump.”