"Let's take my canoe and go for a look at those fellows, Sumner," said the Lieutenant. "They have quite excited my curiosity."
In a few minutes the canoe was afloat, and its occupants were paddling in the direction of where the sloop was thought to lie. For half an hour they paddled back and forth, and in circles, being guided in their movements by the bright riding light of the Transit. Once they struck a floating oar that seemed to be attached to a cable; but they could discover no trace of the sloop, nor did their repeated hailings bring forth a single answer.
At length, greatly perplexed by such unaccountable behavior on the part of the sloop's crew, and nearly devoured by the clouds of mosquitoes that swarmed above the lagoon, they returned to the schooner, and thankfully sought the shelter of her wire-screened cabin.
Chapter XIX.
THE CANOES ARE AGAIN LOST, AND AGAIN FOUND.
In that snug harbor there was so little chance of danger that no watch was kept, and all hands turning in, after a pleasant evening spent in smoking and discussing plans, slept soundly until morning. Although the sun had gone down in a blaze of ominous glory the evening before, and the breeze had died out in an absolute calm, no one was fully prepared for the wonderful change of scene disclosed by the morning. While their land-locked harbor was still as placid as a mill-pond where they were anchored, it was blackened and roughened by the gusts of fierce squalls but a short distance from them. The continuous roar of breakers outside denoted a furious sea, the cause of which was shown by the lashing tree-tops and the howlings of a gale overhead. The sky was hidden behind masses of whirling clouds, while after the tropical weather to which they had become accustomed, the air seemed very cold, though the mercury had not fallen below 50°. The gale was a typical Norther, that, sweeping down from Texas prairies, had gathered strength in its unchecked progress across the Gulf, and was now hurling itself with furious energy against the low Florida coast.
"Whew! What a day!" cried Sumner, as he emerged from the warm cabin and stood shivering in the cockpit. "I tell you what, old man, I'm glad we are in this snug haven, instead of outside."
"So am I," said Worth, who had followed Sumner, and to whom these remarks were addressed. "I'm afraid canoes would stand a pretty sorry chance out there just now."
"Canoes! Well, I should say so! They'd be—Great Scott! Where are the canoes and the cruisers?"
Sumner had just taken his first glance astern, and as he uttered this exclamation he sprang to the little after-deck, and stared about him. The three canoes and the two cruisers had been left for the night attached to a single stout line which was made fast to the Transit's rudder-post. Now they were gone, and not a sign of them was to be seen as far as the eye could reach.