“He is our friend, sir, I am certain of it,” said Paul to Devereux, who had not observed the sign; “there is a chance for us of escaping.”
“By what means?” asked Devereux. “We could not get their vessel out of the harbour.”
“No, sir, but in one of their boats. Before they recover their senses we might be far away out of sight of the island.”
“Very good, Gerrard; but without knowing in what direction to steer we might too probably float about till we were starved to death, or overtaken by another hurricane,” answered Devereux, shaking his head mournfully.
“But perhaps we may find a chart on board the pirate vessel,” suggested O’Grady. “If Charcoal is really our friend, as I think he is, he will help us to get a chart, a compass, and provisions also. Hurrah! I feel quite in spirits at the thought that we shall get away.”
“Be not over sanguine, young gentleman,” observed old Croxton; “there’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, and it’s well to be prepared for reverses.”
In spite of this warning, the boys remained as sanguine as ever, and anxiously waited the appearance of old Charcoal, who, at length, was seen cautiously creeping out of the hut. He came along very fast on his knees and hands. They were surprised to see him without his legs and crutches, till he gave them to understand that the pirates had put them away out of his reach. Paul’s hopes were not to be disappointed; the black had resolved to take the opportunity for which he had long been waiting, while his hard taskmasters were overcome by drunkenness, to escape from their power.
“They will make us all slaves, and keep us to work for them if we don’t escape,” observed O’Grady. “I vote that we set about it at once.”
“But I will try to get old Charcoal’s legs and crutches first,” said Paul.
“And I will not go vidout my cher violin,” cried Alphonse; “it has been my good friend very often. It may be again.”