“Well, we will pack in somehow,” John Block said; “we mustn’t have to make two trips.”
“Besides,” Fritz added, “in another hour the flood tide will make itself felt, and as it sets towards Deliverance Bay, not very far from Shark’s Island, it will not be a very big job for us to get there.”
“Everything is for the best,” the boatswain replied, “and that is beginning to become evident.”
There was no question of pushing the boat down to the sea; it would take the water of its own accord, directly the flood tide overtook it. John Block satisfied himself that it was firmly moored and was in no danger of drifting out to sea.
Then both went up the beach again into the avenue, and rejoined Frank, who was waiting for them in the court-yard.
Informed of what they had found, he was overjoyed. Fritz left him with the boatswain to keep watch over the entrances to the yard.
The news he brought made joy upstairs.
About half-past nine all went down to the foot of the mangrove tree.
Frank and John Block had seen nothing suspicious. Silence reigned round Falconhurst. The slightest sound could have been heard, for there was not a breath of air.
With Fritz and Frank and Captain Gould in front, they crossed the court-yard and the clearing, and filing under cover of the trees in the avenue they reached the beach.