“You're going to take him ashore with you?
“That's what I'm going to do.”
“I don't believe in this!”
Beveridge said nothing.
“Oh, very well. I 'll have a boat ready.” Smiley was called, and Beveridge drew him aside and outlined his plan. Shortly Wilson joined them, and a half-dozen sailors were picked from the crew. Then, all but Smiley armed with rifles and revolvers, they descended to the small boat and were brought rapidly to the shore.
“Which way?” asked Beveridge, sticking close at Smiley's elbow.
“I 'll show you; come along.” He led the way back among the pines and made a circuit, bringing up squarely on the landward side of the settlement.
“Where is it now, Smiley?”
“Right there.”
Beveridge peered out through the trees, then beckoned his men together. “Come in close, boys, and pick your trees. Keep out of sight—and quiet. Take my rifle, one of you.”