During the few hours that Jack had spent in the hands of the savages he had observed that their pirogues were in number fifteen, each able to carry seven or eight men. Twelve of these canoes could now be counted, rounding the point of the creek. With the help of the telescope they were able to calculate that the whole band of savages had gone aboard, and that there could not be a single aborigine remaining at Rock Castle.
“Can they be clearing out at last?” Jack exclaimed.
“It isn’t very likely,” Ernest answered. “More likely that they mean to pay a visit to Shark’s Island.”
“When does the ebb begin?” Captain Gould enquired.
“At half-past one,” Mr. Wolston told him.
“Then it will soon make itself felt, and as it will be in the favour of the canoes we shall then know what to expect.”
Ernest went to inform M. Zermatt, his brothers, and the boatswain, and all came and took up their posts under the hangar of the battery.
It was a little after one o’clock and, with the ebb only just beginning to run, the pirogues moved but slowly along the east coast. They kept as far away from the island as possible, in order to escape the projectiles whose range and power they now knew very well.
“Yet—suppose it were a final departure!” said Frank again.
“Then good luck to them and good-bye!” said Jack.