“They are there! They are there!” cried Frank. “And we ought to have been with them already!”
This assertion nobody denied. They all had such dire need to recover hope that everything was forgotten, the solitude that lay round Falconhurst, the pillage of the yard, the absence of the domestic animals, the empty sheds, the ruin of the rooms at the foot of the mangrove tree.
But cold reason came back, to Captain Gould and John Block at least. Manifestly Rock Castle was occupied at this moment—the smoke proved that. But might it not be occupied by the marauders? At any rate, it would be necessary to approach it with the utmost caution. Perhaps it would be best not to go along the avenue which led to Jackal River. If they went across fields, and, as much as possible, from wood to wood, they might have a chance of getting to the drawbridge without being sighted.
At last, as all were getting ready to leave the aerial dwelling, Jenny lowered the telescope, with which she had been scanning the coast of the bay.
“And the proof that both families are still here,” she said, “is that the flag is flying over Shark’s Island.”
The white and red flag, the colours of New Switzerland, was indeed waving over the battery.
But did that make it absolutely certain that M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston, and their wives and children, had not left the island? Did not the flag always float at that spot?
They would not argue the point. Everything would be explained at Rock Castle, and before an hour had passed.
“Let us go! Let us go!” said Frank again, and he turned towards the staircase.
“Stop! Stop!” the boatswain suddenly said, lowering his voice.