"A privateer!" ejaculated Lennox,—"a privateer!—is there a privateer about the island?'
"A privateer!" said the captain of the Moonbeam—"no—not one, but two of them, ha, ha, he—and both anchored t'other side of the bluff there, he, he, ho—within pistol-shot of us where we now lie, as the crow flies; although they might remain for a year in that cove, and no one the wiser, ho, ho, he.—In my humble opinion, they will be foul of us before morning, ho, ho, he—and most likely cut all our throats, ha, ha, ho."
Poor Saunders Skelp on this fell into a great quandary.
"What shall we do, Mr Brail?—we shall be plundered, as sure as fate."
"I make small doubt of that," quoth I, "and I only hope that may be the worst of it; but if you and the skipper think with me, I would be off this very hour, sprung mast and all."
"How unfortunate!" said Lennox—"Why, I have been working by candle-light ever since you went away, stripping the mast, and seeing all clear when the day broke to——But come, I think a couple of hours may still replace every thing where it was before I began."
Our determination was now promptly taken, so we swigged off our horns, and repaired on deck.
"Who is there?" said some one from forward, in evident alarm.
It was pitch dark, and nothing could be seen but the dim twinkle of the lantern, and the heads and arms of the men at work at the mast head.
"Who is there, aft by the companion?"