“Boat ahoy! Help!”
“Somebody’s on that island!” Nicky declared. Mechanically responding to a call for aid, Tom and Cliff swung the tender’s nose toward the island. Their way took them very close.
“Boys—Master Cliff—Master Tom—Master Nicky! It’s Sam!”
The figure they could discern against the trees waved its arms.
“Quick, pull in close,” cried the tall figure, wading into the water to meet them. “My boat’s gone. Take me in. We can git to the other boat before they get away! Hurry, please, sars!”
It was only an instant before he had caught the approaching gunwale and was tumbling in. “Now,” he cried, “give way, sars!”
“Sam!” cried Nicky, at the bow, pumping the black hand. “I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. Grab those oars! We’ll get them yet!”
But they were fated to act otherwise.
CHAPTER XXIII
MAROONED
After a quick handclasp with the other two, Sam counseled delay. “Better to tell me what has happened to you,” he said. “There are men hiding on that ship, waiting till the men in the boat get all their dunnage on board——”