“I’m going up to the flagstaff to keep a lookout,� said Raynor as he shook himself out of his blankets the next morning. “Jack ought to be heaving in sight any time now.�
“Dat’s so,� agreed Noddy, “an’ dat old canary cage of a wireless did de trick after all. Well, I take it all back. Frum now on I b’live all I hear.�
The two lads dressed quickly and made their way to the flagstaff. In the meantime Pompey set to work to build a fire. He hacked vigorously at the tough wood which he had gathered from the wind-twisted brush patches that dotted the island.
“Mah goodness alive,� he muttered to himself as he worked, “dis wood am as tuff as a thirty-year-ole rooster. Dere! Take dat yo’ ole stick. Gollyumption, ef I hit as hard as dat agin I’m li’bul ter chop a hole in de flo’ ob dis ole hut. But ah don’ care ef I do. We alls is gwine away froum hyah ter-day. Dat hair-oil machine done do de job.�
The negro poised his axe to give a stick laid across two others a mighty blow which should break it in half.
Smash! The axe fell with all the strength of the negro’s arms behind it. The next instant there was a crash and simultaneously a yell broke from Pompey. One fragment of the wood had flown up and hit him in the eye.
The other had hurtled across the room and crashed against the delicate coherer of the wireless set, rendering it useless. Pompey forgot about his swelling eye as he saw this.
“Mah goodness, dat stick done bust dat hair-oil machine!� he gasped. “Gollyumption, what’ll ah do? Gracious hyah comes de boys now too. Dey am running. Dey mus’ hab news. What am it?� he exclaimed as Raynor and Noddy burst into the hut.
“It’s a schooner. A schooner making straight for the island!� panted Raynor.
“But I thought yo’ frens was coming in a lilly gasolene boat?� said Pompey.