CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH ERNEST FINDS THERE IS TREASON IN THE CAMP.
What had become of the boats? I was a commodore without a squadron, and I felt so cheap that I would have sold out my commission for sixpence, and thrown myself in. The boats had been carefully secured, under my own direction, in the little inlet, and they could not have drifted away, I looked at Bob Hale, and Bob Hale looked at me; but neither of us could explain the disappearance of the fleet.
"An enemy hath done this," I began, in Scripture phrase.
"Of course it couldn't have been done by a friend," added Tom Rush. "It's lucky we have a good stock of provisions on hand."
"But the stock won't last forever," suggested Bob.
"We are not going to be starved out in a week, or a year, for that matter," I interposed. "We are not to be broken up by any such accident as this."
"The commodore is spunky," laughed Bob, who was always good-natured, whatever happened.
"I am not to be put down by any such expedient as this taking away the boats. When I want to visit the main shore, I shall do so, boat or no boat," I replied; for I already saw how I could counteract the misfortune of the loss of our squadron.
"Parasyte has snuffed us out, I suppose, and sent a party up here in the night to take the boats," continued Bob Hale. "He means to starve us out."