“I say, Gerrard, don’t you think that you could manage, just with half an eye above the rock, to see what the spalpeens of pirates are about there?” whispered the former.
“Beg pardon, sir, but our orders were not to look out at all,” answered Paul, in a very low voice.
“Right, Gerrard, right; but by the powers, our fellows are a long time getting on shore from the frigate,” said O’Grady.
“Silence, lads!” whispered Devereux, who overheard them talking. “I hear footsteps.”
Sure enough, the tramp of men running fast was heard, and, it seemed, coming in the direction of the rock. Probably the pirates were hastening there for shelter. Paul was sure, as most likely were the rest of the party, that they would wreak their vengeance on their heads if they discovered them. He felt very uncomfortable; his satisfaction was not increased, when he heard a voice shout out, “Here they are, the scoundrels! don’t let one of them escape.”
As there was no object in remaining to be cut down, he was about to follow the ordinary instinct of nature, and to try and escape by flight, when another voice added, “Come on, men, here they are, a dozen or two skulking scoundrels, too.”
There was a shrill squeak in the sound, which Paul was certain he had heard many times before. He was not mistaken. There, on the top of a rock, stood honest Bruff, and by his side, Tilly Blake.
“There are two of the villains—young ones, though,” cried Tilly, pointing to O’Grady and Gerrard.
Then he stopped, with a look of astonishment which made them almost burst into a fit of laughter, as they sprang forward to meet him, while the rest of the party at the same time rose up from their lair.
“Why, Devereux, old fellow, I thought that you were safe in England with our prize by this time,” cried Bruff, as he shook his messmate’s hand.