We awaited his return with impatience, but he was not gone long. He re-entered the clearing walking upright and indifferent to crackling twigs, and then we knew our case was hopeless.
“Dere’s men sleepin’ in de boats, an’ men on watch,” said he; “an’ dey all has swords an’ pistols. Can’t get away anyhow, Mars Perkins.”
“How about the woods?” asked my uncle. “Can’t we escape through them?”
Bry shook his head, decisively. He was an expert woodsman, and declared no man could penetrate the thick jungle that hemmed us in. Ned Britten also bore testimony to this fact; so we were obliged to sadly abandon any hope of escape, and stretched ourselves as comfortably as we might upon the ground to await the approach of morning.
With the first streaks of day the Major and a dozen of his men arrived, and without appearing to notice that we had slipped our bonds they drove us in a pack from the clearing and out upon the sands that bordered the inlet.
Here we saw others of our captors busy preparing breakfast before the entrances to the rude huts, and it was evident that they were using the provisions they had captured from us, for I scented the aroma of the coffee that Uncle Naboth was so proud of, and carried with him wherever he went.
We gathered before the hut of the Major, which was somewhat larger than the others, and then the leader said, in a tone of stern command: “Take off your clothes.”
We hesitated, not quite understanding the purpose of the order.
“Strip, my boys,” said another of the pirates, with a grin. “We want your togs. We drew cuts for ’em last night, and now we’ll trade you our rags for ’em.”
So we stripped and tossed our clothes upon the ground, where they were eagerly seized by the outlaws and donned with great satisfaction. The Major did not participate in this robbery; but, indeed, no garment that we wore could possibly have fitted his huge frame.