Nicky had taken a position beside the little wheelhouse, watching the tender, manned by Tew and one sailor, come around the islet close to which their boat was careened against the coral.
“Hello!” hailed Tew, catching sight of Nicky. “You boys got lost in the shuffle! Thought you was overboard maybe. We’ll take you off. We are hidin’ on a good island—we can climb the trees and be safe when the cutter comes.”
Cliff and Tom ranged up beside Nicky.
“We’re not going, are we?” whispered Cliff. Nicky shook his head.
“Stay away!” he called. “We aren’t going to leave here.”
Cliff and Tom, rifles held in a menacing position, ranged up beside Nicky. The sailor stopped rowing, allowing the tender to drift about fifteen feet from the Senorita. Tew muttered some unpleasant word.
“You don’t want to be there when the revenue men come,” he said. “If you do, we don’t mean you to be!”
He spoke to the sailor, but in face of two rifles, the man said something under his breath and Tew nodded.
“Look here!” Tew called, “if they get you you’ll tell where we are! That won’t do! Come—be sensible—we’ll get you one way or another. Come decent, and we won’t harm you—but come you will!”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Nicky defiantly. “Well we won’t! You’d better go away!”