No pirate ship that sailed these waters in days that are gone ever witnessed a more tremendous and startling demonstration.
Before it, awed into silence, the mob on the dock fell back, then began slipping away. One by one they slunk off into the bush. In ten minutes time not a man was left. A bloodless victory had been won. The field was theirs.
CHAPTER XVII
PANT’S PROBLEM INCREASES
When Pant awoke from many bad dreams, he found himself in a cool and comfortable bed on shore. A doctor was bending over him.
“That’s fine, old boy,” the doctor was saying. “Now you’ll do. You got quite a welt on the head. But your jolly old bean is hard. Never cracked it a mite.”
“But the treasure box!” Pant exclaimed, still unable to think clearly, or use caution. “Where is it?”
“The treasure box? I see you are still a little off in the head. Here, take this; it will clear you up,” said the doctor.
Pant took the contents of the glass held out to him at a single draught and without a question. In the meantime his head cleared. He said no more about the box of pearls, but learned by judicious questioning that the attacking band had on the night before been driven off with little loss of men or goods. A few sacks of chicle had drifted away in the night, that was all.
“And if one of them has a green thread running through the sack!” he thought to himself, and was thrown into a near panic.
“And the schooners?” he asked suddenly. “Where are they?”