Jack impulsively held out his hand. Captain Andrews clasped it warmly. The next moment they were stealthily creeping through the undergrowth, but advancing far more quickly than they had retreated a moment before.
When they once more gained the edge of the jungle. Jack perceived, to his intense satisfaction, that everything was quiet about the handful of buildings before them. So far as could be seen, there was no one about. Evidently then, his surmise had been correct. The majority, if not all of the residents, were abroad in search of the persons who had sounded the alarm bell.
“Which building do you think it likely they are in?” asked Jack, as they paused an instant before plunging from the protection of the woods.
“The one that has that lantern hanging on it,
“I imagine,” was the response from the veteran seaman, “we’ll try that first, anyway. Are you ready?”
Jack nodded. He did not speak, however. It was not a time for mere words. The next moment they had passed from the dark shadows of the jungle into the open space about the plantation buildings. Each clasped his gas-gun ready for instant use. But nobody appeared to bar their progress.
When they gained the structure from which the lamp was hanging, they found that it was a tall building of wood, and seemingly three stories in height.
It was used, though they did not know this at the time, as a drying house for the hemp after it had been through the crushing and separating processes. The door was secured on the outside by a weighty bar of wood. Captain Andrews lifted this out of its sockets, and in a jiffy had flung the door open. Inside was pitchy darkness, so black that it could almost be felt.
Jack had brought along his electric pocket lamp. He drew it out and switched on the current. The rays revealed a large, bare chamber, empty, except for a pile of dry hemp in one corner, and in another a few bales of the product stacked ready for shipment.
“Nothing here,” said Captain Andrews briefly.