They were alone. Their faces were gloomy with failure. Not a sign of any kind had they found to encourage them. Rufe was so disappointed, tears were in his eyes.
"I jes' had a kind o' notion," he said, "you-all would a' had dem boys back wid ye dis time. I jes' been fixin' de bes' kin' o' bread puddin', de kin' dem boys was so crazy about. Dey ain't had a decen' meal for ebber so long!"
When we were at supper, and Rufe had poured a second cup of coffee all round; I heard him mumbling to himself, as he went to the galley, "I jes' goin' to save dat puddin' anyway. I ain't goin' to give up—no sah, I ain't goin' to give up." And the pudding was not forthcoming; and no one inquired for it.
Captain Marat and Carlos went to watch the Orion this time. The moon was very bright; the cocoanut palms stood out distinct on that shore to the east. Somewhere behind them lay our two friends, Wayne and Ray, and I wondered how they were faring. A light breeze sprang up after nine o'clock, and the ripples danced on the waters of the bay. It was then we saw Captain Marat and Carlos coming in the boat.
"They make ready to sail," said Captain Marat, before he scrambled over the rail.
"High there! Rufe!" called Norris. "Heat that poker." And he went to his gun and threw off the tarpaulin, and with help rolled the carriage round, and trained the gun.
Presently we heard the squeal of a block coming from the Orion.
"That means a sail going up," said Robert.
"Now, the poker!" cried Norris.
Rufe came running forward with the glowing iron.