"Necessity knows no law," said George, reaching out with the boat-hook.
He skilfully rolled the bottle towards him. It had once contained Madeira. Then he hooked on to the bundle, and soon landed the meat pie and the cheese. This done, he poked the matting outside in full view.
"Three good meals here," he said, munching away flat on his back. "Now, how to get out of this."
There were only two plans left—to wait until dark and try to obtain possession of one of the boats, or go inland and attempt to find a friend in one of the island farmers. He decided on the former.
It would take too much space to detail the conversations he overheard, or to tell of the chagrin of the sailor-men when they found out that some one had unearthed their spoils. They laid the blame on a landing-party from another vessel, however, and their language was that generally accredited to pirates; but it seemed to ease their minds in a measure. While they were declaring in several different languages that they would catch the thief George smiled in his hole in the sand, and commenced his mid-day meal.
His range of vision was somewhat constricted on account of his narrow quarters, but he could see everything plainly that went on seaward.
The sailors and soldiers appeared to crack rough jokes and grumble rather than carry on coherent intercourse, and so far as news went, nothing could be gleaned.
About five o'clock in the afternoon George heard something at last that made him strain every nerve to listen. His heart thumped against his ribs.
"Pardon me, my Lord," a rich voice spoke, "but to-night would be the time. Look at yonder clouds. The Yankees would hardly expect us to land in the face of such threatening weather. 'Twould be a trick worthy of their own invention."
"There will be a storm, Cornwallis," answered a good-natured drawl. "I hate to start the ball rolling to the accompaniment of Jove's music, and I think rain dampens ardor. But it is as my brother says."