Just as they had guessed, there was a point of land running out all of seventy feet into the water, and hiding the next bayou. Sometimes these extend from the main Florida shore around Barnes Sound like the fingers of a human hand. Again they will be in the form of reefs, composed of small, sharp-edged ’coon oysters, that stick up out of the salt water at low tide, but are entirely submerged when the flood comes on.
Before reaching the extreme point, Jack concluded that it would be wise for them to pass over here, rather than risk discovery by going to the limit of the cape; where, with the white sand to serve as a background to their darker bodies, some one on the watch might discover their approach, and give warning.
“Jack, I see it!” whispered George, presently.
“The boat, you mean,” replied the other, in the same guarded tone. “Yes, I’ve caught her, too. But everything seems to be dark around.”
“I wonder now, have they deserted the ould craft,” suggested Jimmy.
“Not so loud, Jimmy; we’ve got to find that out for ourselves,” Jack went on.
“By going aboard, you mean, don’t you, Jack?” from eager George.
“There’s no other way; and if these people are holding our chum a prisoner, we’ve just got to let them know we object to such a high-handed business. Are you both willing to stand back of me, George, Jimmy?”
“Every time,” George replied; and Jack could easily imagine how his excitable chum must be nerved up to the highest tension.