"You're going to stay here," said Mostyn firmly. "Officer's orders, you know."
Minalto was about to frame an argumentative reply, when a chorus of raucous voices sounded in the distance.
Without further delay Jasper pulled aside the canvas screen, only to collide violently with Alwyn Burgoyne.
"Ssh!" exclaimed the latter warningly. "Get back. They're ashore."
"The pirates?" asked Mostyn.
"Yes, unfortunately," replied Burgoyne. "They brought up off the little creek and hoisted Yankee colours. Thought they'd have us cold, but it didn't come off. I waited under a bush—rather longer than I intended, perhaps; but, you see, I wanted to make sure of their little game. After a bit they got tired of seeing the Stars and Stripes at the main truck, so they hauled the bunting down. Up to that point I'd seen only three men aboard; but by this time they'd come to the conclusion that we weren't having any. So they launched a boat and rowed ashore: eight men armed with rifles, and our old friend Strogoff sporting a pair of automatics. I thought it high time to sheer off, so I crept back for about fifty yards and again watched developments."
"Eight of 'em, not a-countin' Black Strogoff, were you sayin', sir?" inquired Minalto thoughtfully. "Sure, 'tes long odds, wi' only a pistol an' a cutlass 'twixt three on us. Was there more on 'em left aboard, sir?"
"I cannot say, Jasper. More than likely there were, but I didn't see them. They'd hardly all go ashore."
"Ef us could slip along, like," resumed Jasper, "an' swim off to the schooner—— When all's nice an' dark like."
"They'll probably go on board again to-night," said Burgoyne. "We'll have to think things out a bit. But when I left them they were smashing up our happy home just out of sheer mischief. When they've got tired of that they'll begin searching the island, so we had better lie low and keep quiet."