“But where can we get any more?” said Senor Ortiga.
“On the wrecked Senorita, of course,” snapped his brother. “Her tanks are almost full.”
“But with the cutter coming, how can we stop for gas?” demanded Tew.
“Easy,” said a sailor, and revealed a plan.
Of all that Cliff was ignorant. He, with Sam, Jim and the sailor, had stood watch-and-watch through the night and up into the day.
But nothing had altered the monotony.
But excitement was coming, and coming fast!
Nicky and Tom had been unceremoniously roped and flung into the open cockpit aft of the engine compartment. The cockpit was a low step higher than the cabin flooring, but its coaming and sides were so high that all the two chums could see was the sky and, when they ran close to an islet, the tops of the trees where these grew near the water.
The cutter had been delayed for a moment to pick up Mr. Neale and Brownie, who had rowed with all their might and had sighted the cutter in time to hail her and to be taken aboard. Lieutenant Sommerlee wanted Brownie, a good shot, and Mr. Neale would be able to play a part if hand-to-hand fighting came about.
He sent Brownie forward and bade him scan the water closely as they put full speed on to chase the Libertad, long since passed out of view beyond the first island of the archipelago.