Both lads looked over the side. Deep beneath the surface they saw a huge luminous shape slowly gliding away.
"My word!" whispered Andy. "Can't you see what it is? It's a shark."
"I thought it was some natives swimming off to us."
"Never fear. They'll never attempt such a thing with a sentry like that brute," replied Andy as he re-entered the cabin.
Slowly the weary hours passed, till the sun rose in a sky of misty grey, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island, both black and white, bestirred themselves into activity.
"Not much wind, boss," was Chinese Pork's salutation as Mr. McKay and his companions arrived at the beach, whither Andy had rowed in the tender.
"There'll be some before long," replied Mr. McKay. "It usually springs up about an hour after sunrise."
"It'll mean a long pull if it doesn't," rejoined Blight. "Shall I lend you four or five hands to work the sweeps?"
"I'll not trouble you, thanks. It's your men who will find it hard work, I fancy."
"Say, why? You just see them use those paddles. They'll keep it up for hours at a stretch. Your craft'll be the tail end of this 'ere procession, I guess."